Page 29 of He Has It All (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“So you’ve been here before?”
“Sure. Me and Levi have spent some time on Nantucket over the years. Mostly the natives and regulars come here and they know me. Respect my privacy.”
“Kind of like when you go into Mike’s bar in the neighborhood back home?” I say. “Except—whoops—you never go there anymore.”
His smile falters though he doesn’t scowl at me, and I would if I were him because I’m kind of being a bitch, testing him and his resolve.
“How would you know?”
“Touché.”
“Besides, I do go there on occasion—to retrieve Gramps whenever I go home because that’s where he seems to spend most of his time.”
“I know. My mother’s mentioned it.” Mom’s a waitress there and takes care of Old Man O’Rourke, as she calls him.
“I know,” he says. “I owe her thanks for looking out for him.”
That familiarity, the family ties well up, making me feel warm. Making me feel . . . related. Like his fucking sister. We reach the back of the line a half dozen deep and he drops his arm from my shoulder as if he feels it too. The easy familiarity that’s a little too familiar, that makes this whole dinner date thing seem weird.
“Hey Ryan, good to see you back.” The guy at the window grins and sticks his hand out to shake Ryan’s.
“Of course I’m back, Arnie. Levi’s getting married.”
“That’s right—I heard that. This the big weekend? Guess my invitation got lost in the mail.” He laughs. I notice Ryan’s jaw tense.
“We’ll go out for drinks—you, me and Levi—next time we’re on island, toast the lucky bastard for snagging my sister.” Arnie nods, looking politely skeptical though I know Ryan is dead serious and I might even place a week’s pay on him following through on his promise. His blue-collar connection runs deep. Even deeper than his good sense and ability to protect himself from users. Not that he lets people use him. He’s smart enough to have surrounded himself with the best professionals. His agent is top notch and honest. His tax accountant is some friend from college. And this guy Arnie, he’s some guy from Nantucket he knows from summers here. Arnie looks at me and it finally occurs to Ryan to introduce me.
Wrapping an arm around my shoulder he says, “This is Chelsea, my best girl.”
“Nice to meet you Arnie. I can’t wait to try some of those clams. They smell heavenly.”
We place our order and step aside to wait at another window. I don’t know what to make of that introduction, but it has my insides shaken up. Best girl? What kind of girl? Girl next door? Lover girl? Well, we both know that can’t be it.
By the time we sit at the picnic table overlooking the harbor, the sky getting dark and the stars lighting it up to a purple glow, I’m lost in the moment, with nothing on my mind but the smell of fried Nantucket clams and my mouth watering to devour them. We stay in the pleasure of the moment all night, the sound of the waves and the scented breeze holding us to the present because why would we want to escape from the bliss of where we are right now?
The moment lasts all the way until he pulls his father’s car up to the curb outside of the Periwinkle Inn to drop me off and he throws the car into park. But he doesn’t turn the engine off.
“What a night. This will be one of those nights I remember in my rocking chair, the kind that will make me smile so that the grandkids think I’m a dotty old fool, but they won’t know it’s because of you, my fond memory of Chelsea Wilde’s smile. Perfectly legitimate, not a foolish thing about it.”
“No fools here,” I say. Feeling foolish. Because I actually thought he’d kiss me good night in true end-of-the-perfect-dinner-date fashion. But no, he’s relegating me to a future fond memory, like one has for people they’ve left behind. “Good night, Ryan. Thank you for . . . a memorable night.” I mean the smile, the last vestiges of the pleasantness wringing it out of me. Then I push the door open and get out, not looking back as he calls out his good night. And whatever the hell else he’s saying.
* * *
Maggs doesn’t bother knockingon my door in the morning when she flounces in, fully dressed and smiling. My panic is short-lived when she starts talking about this being a big day. The rehearsal is tonight and we’re all moving into the wedding venue—Nantucket Hotel & Resort—or at least the bridesmaids are.
My mom is staying at the house with the O’Rourkes and I plan to have lunch with her today. Luckily, she agreed to meet me here at the hotel so I don’t have to go anywhere near that house and Ryan. It’s only a short reprieve since the rehearsal is tonight and he’s the fucking best man to my maid of honor, so there’s that encounter to get through. Then the rehearsal dinner and party and then tomorrow’s wedding and then Sunday’s post-wedding brunch.
It’s an endless parade of RO encounters and my nerves are already frazzled. Keeping him at arms-length and having him so close and trying not to feel guilty about sending photos of him to my boss is confusing me and killing me.
At least my boss is thrilled with the clip from the drunk beach volleyball game. I wish I hadn’t sent the audio with Gary’s big mouth shouting the drunk part. I’m afraid my boss will emphasize that angle though I tried to focus him on the beefcake angle of the O’Rourke brothers. They’re an impressive lot, all buff even if none of the others are as classically handsome as Ryan. But who is?
After I throw everything into my room’s closet, I knock on Maggie’s door because I’m dying to see the bridal suite. She flings the door open and the other girls are already there ahead of me, living it up with mimosas.
“Have a drink, Chels.” She pulls me into the room.
“Not yet,” I say. “I’m having lunch with my mom in a few minutes and I need to be sober.” She gives me an understanding nod, knowing I have some serious things to talk about, but the last thing I want to do is be a downer at her party.
“How about a half a glass?” I say.
